


Pulp

by KoreArabin



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:58:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreArabin/pseuds/KoreArabin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ooh, big strong tiger, look, you’ve got Daddy all held down and helpless.  So what’re going to do now, baby?  Are you going to hurt Daddy?  Are you going to make Daddy scream?”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah, Daddy’s gonna be screaming, alright.  But he’s gotta beg for it.  So c’mon, Daddy, beg for it.  Beg Sebby to hurt you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I inadvertently managed to delete this the other evening, if you're wondering why it's reappeared today...

“Hit me.”

“What?”

“Are you deaf, Moran?”

“No.”

“Then do as I say.”

The fist to the solar plexus and backhand across the face leave the smaller man crumpled against the sofa, wheezing and gasping, but laughing. “Good! Very good! Again.” 

Another hard slap to the face, this time open-handed with his palm, and a punch to the kidney. “Nnngh. Yes, baby, yes! More!”

Sebastian grabs Jim by the tie and hauls him up, slapping the shit out of his face, concentrating on the mouth. Jim always looks so fucking hot when he’s been fucked over, bruised and bleeding. Jim licks at his split lip and goes to swing a punch at Seb, but Seb has the advantage of height and strength and parries it easily, elbowing Jim in the side of the neck and forcing him back down over the sofa again.

Jim’s like a fucking eel, writhing and twisting and trying to bite, so Seb forces him down to the floor, flips him over on to his stomach and sits astride him, pinioning his hips and legs with his weight and holding Jim’s wrists together tightly in the small of his back.

Jim twists his head to the side and looks up at him from the corner of his eye. “Ooh, big strong tiger, look, you’ve got Daddy all held down and helpless. So what’re going to do now, baby? Are you going to hurt Daddy? Are you going to make Daddy scream?”

Seb drags Jim’s tie off, no doubt in the process giving him a nice rope burn across the neck to add to his other decorations, and deftly ties his wrists tightly together, before bending down over his captive and growling into his ear. “Oh yeah, Daddy’s gonna be screaming, alright. But he’s gotta beg for it. So c’mon, Daddy, beg for it. Beg Sebby to hurt you.”

Jim squirms violently again, and Seb bites down hard on the shell of his ear, hard enough to break the skin and draw blood. Jim shrieks and struggles even harder, so Seb continues biting, this time on his neck. Before long Jim’s neck is a mass of weeping red bitemarks and his shirt collar is stained a vivid crimson, and Sebastian can feel the blood pooling on his chin.

Jim is panting, eyes closed, pressing himself against the floor, cock rigid against the crotch of his trousers. “Hurt me, Sebby. Hurt Daddy. Fuck him up real good, please, baby.”

Seb slides back from Jim's arse, and sits across Jim’s legs. “Lift your hips.” He unbuttons Jim’s trousers and pulls them down, letting them tangle round Jim’s knees. No pants, dirty fucker. “Daddy’s a dirty fucking slut, isn’t he?” When Jim doesn’t answer, he grabs a handful of hair and pulls his head up, arching Jim’s neck and back painfully. “Isn’t he?” 

“Yes, baby. Daddy’s a dirty fucking slut. _I’m_ a dirty fucking slut.”

“Good boy. Now, I’m going to fuck you. Really fucking hard. I’m gonna ram my cock hard up your arse and fucking ream you, baby, and it’s gonna really fucking hurt. And I want you to moan and beg like the filthy cockslut you are while I’m fucking you, cos I know you’ll be loving it, stretched out and filled right up with thick, hard cock, and afterwards you can lick me clean and thank me for filling your tight little hole up with thick, hot, come. How does that sound, Daddy?

Jim’s only response is a muffled groan. Seb reaches underneath him – Jim’s cock is rock hard. Dirty little bastard. Without further ado, Sebastian smears the tip of his cock with saliva before pulling Jim’s buttocks apart and shoving his cock hard into the tight pink hole.


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian wakes abruptly, mouth dry and head pounding. Fuck. How much did he have to drink last night? As his eyes adjust to the faint morning light filtering through into the bedroom, he suddenly realises two things. One, there is a dark shape looming above him, and - two, there is a weight pressing down on his chest and upper body. The two things would appear to be connected. Fuck.

Squinting up at the dark shape, trying desperately to focus, he can make out a pale face punctuated with two blurry black dots for eyes, and a shock of dark hair. He exhales, relaxing. _Jim_.

"Boss? Wha' the fuck? Wha's the time?"

"Time for you to wake up, Sebby. C'mon, stop being such a slacker and wake up." 

The sharp slap to his face sounds like a gunshot in the quiet bedroom.

"Ow! What the fuck?" 

The vicious backhand is not quite as loud but a lot more painful.

"Fuck! Seriously, what the _fuck_?"

Sebastian tries to haul himself up, but Jim is sitting on his chest with his legs pinning Sebastian's upper arms. He could hook his hand round to grab at Jim's hips, but can't get any real leverage to push himself up from this position.

"It's the first day of spring, Sebastian. The vernal equinox. I've changed the clocks. Spring forward, fall back!" At this, Jim bounces gleefully on Sebastian's chest, apparently oblivious to the way his knees are digging hard and painfully into Seb's biceps. "Time for new beginnings, new _stuff_."

"Yeah? Well, whoopy fuckin' do. What d'ya expect me to do about it?"

"Stop being _thick_ , Sebby. You know what this means. The sap's rising! _My_ sap's rising." Jim's voice begins to rise up an octave or two as he starts to sing. "New stuff! Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me I wanna be dirty!"

Sebastian can't take much more of this. "Fucking get off me, Jim. I've got a fucking _massive_ hangover and I can't take you fucking pissing about on top of me first thing, even if it is fucking spring."

Jim stops bouncing and his face goes still. "No. You are going to do whatever I tell you to do, Moran, and you don't get to tell me _no_ , ever. _Not fucking ever_."

Before Sebastian's knows what's going on, there's a knife at the side of his mouth, the tip just pressing into the sensitive crease of his lips. Where the fuck Jim hid that he's no idea, but a knife virtually in his mouth first thing in the morning is not a good start to the day.

"You need to learn some respect, Sebby. I've been far too soft with you recently, far too _indulgent_ , and it's time you remembered your place."

"Open your mouth."

Seb flinches. "Wha- what?"

"New stuff. I told you. Your mouth. Open it."

"No."

"Don't make me make you, tiger. You won't like that at all."

"Fuck, Jim, I'm not going to like _it_ anyway, whatever _it_ is, am I? So no fucking way."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't try this at home, kids! 
> 
> ;-)

Really, what's the point in arguing? He knows he'll do what Jim tells him to do, _ultimately_ , however effective a show of resistance he puts up. And Jim prefers it that way; he likes his tiger unsheathing his claws occasionally, being a little feisty, giving him a reason to punish him. Not that Jim _needs_ a reason to punish him, but the little power plays excite them both, and keep things fresh and unpredictable.

So, eventually, cautiously, Sebastian opens his mouth. "Good boy! So we won't have to book those obedience classes after all. Although I know you'd have loved all those big, rough, dogs sniffing round your little bitch fuckhole, wouldn't you, Sebby? Never mind, kitten, I'll make it up to you."

Jim peers into Sebastian's open mouth. "Now, kitten, I want you to say, "Please, Daddy, hurt me", then stick your tongue out."

Seb hesitates, but then sees the look in Jim's eyes. "Please, Daddy, hurt me."

"Good boy! Very good! Now, I am going to just make a little hole - _here_ \- with the tip of the kn..."

Seb's howl of pain as Jim forces the sharp tip of the knife through his tongue echoes around the bedroom. "Shush, shush, kitten, don't be such a fusspot. It's only a little hole, just big enough for - _this_."

Sebastian squints to see what Jim is holding up in front of him; it's a stainless steel barbell piercing with what looks like a far too large metal ball on each end. "Just pop that through there, attach that end - keep _still_ , Sebby - I can't see what I'm doing with all this blood - et voilà!"

Sebastian struggles below Jim, his tongue feeling, well, like someone's just stuck a _fucking knife_ through it, but worse than that is the amount of blood which appears to be pouring down his throat. Lying flat on his back, with the pain in his tongue, it's difficult to swallow, and when Jim throws the knife aside and starts to unzip his fly, Seb starts to panic in earnest.

"No, no, no, kitten. You're going to blow me. I want to feel that lovely new piercing rubbing against my cock whilst you suck me off. I've been wanting to do this to you for ages, and now I get a lovely spring present from my devoted tiger. And you get a great big mouthful of scrummy come! What a lucky boy you are!"

"Bu' I' bleedin', Ji' - m' mouth' full o' bloo'"

"You say that like it's a bad thing, sweetie. Now open up and suck my cock."


	4. Chapter 4

“Fuck, tiger, that’s wonderful. That’s so fucking hot.”

Jim’s sitting over him, head back and eyes shut, hands twisted in Sebastian’s hair, holding him still, holding him so he can’t escape the cock fucking _slamming_ into his throat.

Sebastian just gurgles and concentrates on not drowning in his own blood. Jim’s fucking his mouth too hard, and the barbell feels like it’s being fucking ripped out of his tongue, and there’s _so much blood_ , pouring out of his mouth and down his throat and into his sinuses, and he can’t stop himself choking and then he’s coughed blood up all over the front of Jim’s dress trousers and Jim’s not going to be happy about that, and Jim’s crotch looks like a war zone and he can see it’s turning Jim on so fucking much to have his cock and balls just fucking soaking in blood as he slams into Seb’s throat again and again and again and Seb can’t think of anything at all except _breathe_ …

oOo

When he comes to, he’s been tipped over on to his side and his face is in the middle of what appears to be a frigging _lake_ of blood. He’s still bleeding, but not as much now that he’s no longer being brutally face fucked. His tongue feels fucking _huge_ , filling his mouth and _throbbing_ in time with his heartbeat.

Jim’s kneeling up over him, stroking his blood-soaked cock, scowling down at him, his eyes flat and black and dead like they always are when he’s pissed off. 

“That was fucking pathetic, _Moron_. All you had to do was take a little tiny piercing and give me the teensiest little bit of pleasure and you couldn’t even do that for me, you selfish, useless, fucking bastard. And you’ve ruined a perfectly good pair of trousers – one of my favourites - so you can pay for them out of your salary. It’s the fucking least you can do to make up for being such a self-centred, pathetic waste of space.”

Jim strokes himself harder. “Open your fucking mouth, _Moron_. You’re going to do this for me even if you can do fuck all else.”

They groan simultaneously, Jim as he orgasms and comes into Seb’s waiting mouth; Seb as the come sets his tongue stinging painfully again. Jim wipes his cock off on Seb’s hair and slides off of the bed.

“Clean yourself up and have a car ready in thirty minutes. I’ve work to do.”


	5. Chapter 5

"Sebby, Sebby, Sebby. What _am_ I to do with you, you disobedient little kitten?" Jim sighs theatrically. "I try my best, I truly do, Sebbikins, but you've let me down _again_ with your bad behaviour. Staying out all night and coming home stinking of fags and booze, and me sitting up _frantic_ with worry."

As if.

The immaculately polished toe of a shoe appears before Sebastian's face. "Lick. Do it."

Sebastian does as he's told. How can he not, trussed up like this on the bedroom floor? He can hardly shuffle away in his present predicament, can he?

Jim sighs again, and shakes his head, for all the world a kindly father full of sorrow at his prodigal son's disappointing ways. "If I spare the rod, I spoil the Sebastian, and you know I can't do that, darling. I _have to_ punish you for being such a thoughtless, naughty boy. You leave me no choice, baby."

 

Jim's excelled himself, he thinks. He's naked and face down on the floor, utterly helpless in some fucking shibari thing Jim's tied him into, his arms pulled up behind his back and tied hand to elbow, then secured to his body. Another rope is pulled up tight between his legs, squashing his balls and cock, and holding the best part of an enormous dildo firmly in his arse. Jim says that his struggles will ensure that it slides in completely, eventually, but for now Seb's simply whimpering quietly into the floor as the monster invader stretches his arsehole out painfully.

And then, the coup de grâce. Another rope, one end secured tightly around and between his ankles, the other attached to the thick, heavy, posture collar around his neck. The collar Seb hates with a passion, because it's so bloody stiff and it forces his head up and backwards, and Jim's buckled it so fucking tightly that he's already struggling to breathe and that's _before_ Jim's even done anything _else_ to him.

And he will. Seb knows the sadistic little fucking bastard too well to imagine that he'll just leave him _lying_ here, struggling to keep his back arched to relieve the pressure on his neck, even though that sort of predicament bondage is something Jim adores inflicting on his big, strong, tiger. Predicament bondage, a bottle of iced vodka, a bowl of popcorn and a case full of DVDs and Jim'll gleefully use his precious baby as a footrest cum punchbag cum _bin_ for the evening. Sometimes he'll even allow Sebby to smoke the odd fag, holding it for him as he takes a drag, before stubbing it out on Seb's buttocks or testicles.

But, no. No footrest duties tonight. Jim's circling Seb with a rattan cane in his hand and a look of sheer sadistic pleasure on his boyish face, his other hand palming the obvious erection tenting his tight suit trousers.

"C'mon, kitten. You know what to do."

Seb takes a deep breath. "Please, Boss. Please discipline me. Please punish me for being so thoughtless and disobedient."

"Well, darling, as you ask so _nicely_..."

Seb hears the whoosh of the cane through the air before the pain explodes across the soles of his feet. Jerking helplessly in the restraints, kicking involuntarily as the line of white hot agony continues to bloom across his soles, he gasps as the posture collar cuts off his air, effectively choking himself with his reflexive kicking. 

"Oh, kitten, don't make such a fuss. You'll get yourself all breathless and worked up like that. Just remember not to _kick_ , darling. It's not fucking rocket science."

With that, Jim brings the cane down again across his feet, Seb thrashing and wheezing and trying desperately to flip himself sideways, anything to get away from the relentless pain. Jim simply watches him, stroking his cock, his hand now inside his trousers, giving Seb just enough time to get his balance and breath back before hitting him again.

He can't even cry out in pain; he can't draw breath. His whole consciousness is focussed simply on trying to arch his back enough to reduce the pressure on his throat, and drag in a shallow gasp of air, whilst trying to place the processing of the pain - _who knew how fucking agonising something so apparently fucking trivial could be?_ \- on the back burner.

Then there's another whoosh and another explosion of pain and then the rope between his legs is burning and cutting as it chafes against his cock and balls, and the fucking bastard monstrosity in his arse is sinking in even further, making Seb feel like he's being split open, _impaled_ , and he's choking and gagging and _strangling_ , and the pain's everywhere and it's too intense and he can't breathe....


	6. Chapter 6

When Sebastian comes around, he's still lying bound on the floor, but the rope securing his collar to his ankles has been released, for the time being at least. Jim is lounging on the sofa whilst the TV blares, his left hand occupied with thumbing away into his phone, his right holding the remote and flicking through the TV channels. At some point he's changed from his suit into a simple pair of black silk pyjama bottoms, and even from the floor Seb can see that there's a large wet spot on the crotch.

"Back with us, kitten? One _would_ imagine that when it's suggested one shouldn't _kick_ , one would manage to follow such a _pico-slice_ of advice, but I suppose we can't all be geniuses. Do _try_ not to be such a fucking _doofus_ in future, tiger. It does make for such _boring_ punishments, and you _know_ you don't want Daddy getting all bored now, do you?"

Sebastian shakes his head as vigorously as he can, just about able to croak out a, "No, Daddy." His throat feels as if he's been swallowing razor blades.

"Good Sebby! Baby's all ready for his punishment! Let's resume, kitten."

The rope is re-attached, even tighter this time, and Sebastian holds his arched-back position as well as he can, but after a few minutes he's trembling all over with the effort. "Only a little more now, darling. I need you to be able to do your job for me, after all. Just a few more little tickles on your ickle bitty tooters, baby."

Seb braces, but the pain of the next two strokes has him once again slowly strangling, unable to control the involuntary reflexes of his body. Managing at last to steady himself and suck in a painful, _burning_ breath, he is mortified to discover that during his struggles he has managed to piss himself. Not a lot, but enough to produce a rapidly cooling little puddle under his crotch.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Sebby. How fucking pathetic. Are you a fucking geriatric incontinent old Bagpuss? I suppose I'll have to untie you now, won't I, so that we don't end up with a fucking stain on the rug? If we have, I'll make you lick it clean."

Jim huffs and fiddles with the rope for a couple of seconds, before giving up and resorting to a knife. How the fuck the little shit had the patience to shibari him up in the first place is something of a mystery, although Seb can well imagine that Jim has all the patience in the world when he's setting up a plan, but fuck all when it comes to sorting out one that's gone wrong.

Cut free of the ropes, Sebastian lies gasping on his side, his cock and balls feeling like they're fucking _pulsating_ as the blood supply trapped by the tight crotch rope starts flowing again, the massive dildo at last out of his arse, and his ankles and arms untied.

Jim's faffing about, still tapping away at his phone, a glass of vodka straight from the freezer in hand. It is that fucking faffing that has Seb rousing himself from his recovery position and silently unbuckling the posture collar.


	7. Chapter 7

"You fucking sneaky fucking _bastard_ , Moran."

Jim's voice is dripping with anger and frustration, but would be rather more menacing if it wasn't also quite so hoarse. "How _dare_ you do this to me, Moran? I'll have your fucking _skin_ for this."

Sebastian grins, and ruffles Jim's hair. "You're the one who likes all the predicament bondage stuff, Boss. You've only yourself to blame if you give me ideas."

Jim growls, and tries to shift position, visibly wincing when his movement is accompanied by a rather lurid squelching sound.

"Fuck!"

Seb grins down at his boss, currently squatting in a most inelegant position with his back to the living room door. The detested posture collar is now buckled tightly around _Jim's_ neck, and his arms are strapped together behind his back. Jim's legs are held apart by the spreader bar cuffed to his ankles, and Seb has tied both the collar and the spreader bar so that they are secured on the other side of the door, the ropes attached to them passing under the door so that Jim can't even _attempt_ to fiddle with them.

The ropes also prevent Jim from shuffling away from his position by the door, or standing up, but force him to squat balanced on the balls of his feet, his thighs spread wide open.

But the best thing about Jim's predicament, from Sebastian's point of view, anyway, is the large black latex fist currently just nudging its way into Jim's tight little arse. The large black latex fist they bought as a laugh on a fun night out cruising the Soho fetish bars, as a sort of Borat joke thing. Seb's pretty sure that Jim's not laughing about it now.

"Legs tired yet, baby? I bet your calves are cramping like mad, eh, Jimmy? Though probably not as fucking painful as my bloody feet, you little bastard." 

Jim shoots him a venomous look.

"No? Not too bad yet? But they will be, Jimmikins, and then you're going to find yourself becoming far more _intimately_ acquainted with that fuck off ginormous fist poking at your arsehole. I've even lubed it up so it's all nice and squelchy smooth for you, to help it slide in easier. See? I'm not _all_ fucking bastard, babes."

oOo

The look of surprise on Jim's face when Seb overpowered him earlier was fucking classic. The little shit had clearly thought that "'Bastian's bastinado", as he'd mockingly referred to it, had completely fucked him up, and hadn't expected his exhausted, wrung out kitten to be able to pounce. So Seb was able to take him down really easily with a hard punch to the gut and an armlock around his neck, and hadn't he _enjoyed_ forcing the sadistic little bastard on to the floor and rubbing his face in the piss puddle drying there?

Stripping and hog-tying Jimmy had been fun, too, as had gagging him with his sopping pyjama bottoms once he'd used them to wipe the piss up, and Seb had almost abandoned his plan of revenge to just fuck Jim raw there and then on the floor, on seeing the expression on the little fuckmuffin's face when he'd reappeared from the bedroom carrying the latex fist.

oOo

Hmmmm. Glad he hadn't, though. Even the most satisfying rough bondage fuck doesn't quite match the look on Jim's face as his trembling leg muscles lose the battle with gravity, and he begins the inevitable descent on to the enormous fist impaling him.


End file.
